


Trial and Error

by Hildigunnur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Courtroom Drama, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, Rimming, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-26
Updated: 2008-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hildigunnur/pseuds/Hildigunnur
Summary: Harry hopes to lend Ron his support but is it too late?





	Trial and Error

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015.
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written 2007 for the Best Mates Xmas exchange on LJ for Solstice Muse. Thanks to Sarka and Lokrur, my lovely betas.
> 
> I took a bit of liberty with the Wizengamot trial in this story. As the descriptions in canon aren't completely consistent, I felt it was okay to invent a bit myself as a means to an end for the story.

Harry hated this room. He still remembered his own trial more than five years earlier very well and it always left him with a burning feeling in his stomach. He remembered how scared he'd been and how certain he'd been that at best he would be expelled from Hogwarts. With a great sense of lament, Dumbledore's figure rose in his mind, prowling in his mind just as he'd prowled around Harry as he had sat in the accused's chair those years ago.  
  
Despite the dim lighting, Harry felt a bit exposed, even sitting there on the sidelines. There was a room for a great audience but the benches were very rarely full and today it was only him and a reporter from the Daily Prophet. A part of him wanted to shoo the reporter away; he didn't have any business being there. No respect for people's privacy. Still, this was an open trial and whoever who wanted to plunge down to the 10th level at the Ministry was welcome to observe.  
  
Harry should be glad that there weren't more people - well-known wizards on the stand often drew a crowd and Ron certainly wasn't a nobody.  
  
Sitting in the rear, unseen to Ron, he looked at the back of the head of his best friend and wondered whether Ron felt the same way now that Harry had felt, facing the entire Wizengamot. Well, it wasn't the entire Wizengamot this time around, though the charges laid at Ron's feet were serious. He was going to be tried by the Wizengamot halved. Still, it was probably daunting to sit in front of all those wizards and witches who must have had a high opinion of Ron as a war hero.  
  
Ron did have someone to represent him. Hermione.  
  
She normally didn't represent people in Wizengamot hearings; she worked for the Magical Law Enforcement and usually was the one prosecuting a case, standing up on the balcony, not down in the pit. She walked onto the floor to stand beside the chair where Ron was sitting as the prosecutor read out the indictment.  
  
"Ronald Bilius Weasley, you appear here before the Wizengamot, accused of being in breach of the Common Wizarding Penal Act from 1625. Did you or did you not, on the night of the 19th of last October, without provocation, assault one Zacharias Lucas Smith at the public house, Blazing Donkey, 134 Diagon Alley, and maim and injury him so his left jaw had to be mended and one of his front teeth had be re-grown?"  
  
Harry held his breath as Ron took his time before answering the charges. He noticed Hermione edge a little bit closer to the chair as if to spur Ron to answer. They had to have gone through what he was going to say. Unfortunately, Harry was in the dark. As an Auror this wasn't a case he would handle and besides, his personal interest in it would disqualify him. Hermione had actually taken leave from her department as soon as the case came in and stepped into the role of representing Ron. It had to be odd for her, both to be on this side of the courtroom and to be representing her ex-boyfriend.  
  
"I cannot plead guilty to the charges as they are laid out."  
  
There was a faint murmur amongst the members of the Wizengamot and the prosecutor leafed quickly through his documents. Hermione hadn't moved, as she appeared to have expected this. Harry had let out a shaky breath. What did this mean? Had Ron hit Smith but didn't want to admit to injuring him so much?  
  
It didn't occur to Harry to ask Ron himself. Well, that wasn't entirely true - he had thought about it long and hard. But it would mean addressing the subject of the Erumpent in the room that everyone else was busy ignoring.  
  
Things had changed between them and Harry could pinpoint the moment when it changed to a fraction of a second: the fraction of a second when his brain had finally processed what Ron had just then confessed to him - the exact moment he'd learned that Ron was gay.  
  
It shouldn't have changed anything, he knew that. It wasn't like their friendship before had revolved around Ron being heterosexual. Harry had, in fact, usually tried to keep out of the romantic tribulations of Ron, for many reasons.  
  
If Harry had been a normal and good friend, he should have been supportive at Ron's confession and this shouldn't have turned into a wedge between them - if Harry hadn't shoved himself to the back of the closet, mostly afraid of facing his own feelings.  
  
He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he was very startled by someone standing in front of him, clearing their throat. Hermione made a rather impressive figure, in her barristers' robes with the court documents under one hand and the other on her hip.  
  
"You seem rather lost in your thoughts, Harry," she commented wryly. Feeling a blush creeping up his cheeks, he attempted to steer the topic of conversation away from his thoughts.  
  
"So what happens now?"  
  
"Well, the Wizengamot will reconvene in a week for a full hearing. I asked to have the trial split up like this, though that's not the usual practice, as you know." The tone in her voice suggested she wasn't all too certain it would help Ron's case.  
  
"So there will be witnesses questioned and all that?"  
  
"Yeah, Smith will undoubtedly give his testimony. If he lays the superlatives on as thick as he did in his initial Magical Law Enforcement report, I might use that to Ron's advantage. Sorry, I shouldn't be babbling about this like that. No offence, Harry, but you know it's not very professional."  
  
He supposed Hermione deserved a modicum of sympathy - Ron probably wasn't an easy client.  
  
+++  
  
Ron made a somewhat sullen figure as he was, slumped against the wall outside of the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, his head bent and his hands shoved down into the pockets of his robes. Noticing Harry, he grunted and looked up a little.  
  
"You were there." There was a lot implied in those three words but it was the hint of shame that gave Harry's gut a jolt.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why?"  
  
What kind of question was that? Harry was almost angry. Did Ron really think so little of their friendship that he believed Harry would want to distance himself over something like this? But Ron deserved an answer.  
  
"Because you're my friend and I wanted to be there for you."  
  
"You realise that I do have Hermione there."  


"She didn't have much choice, did she? I was there for moral support."  


Ron's laughter sounded derisive and Harry felt like he'd been punched. 

"Moral support indeed, Harry. It's nice how you seem to pick and choose what you'll support in your friends' lives." 

Harry couldn't decipher the look in his eyes and before he could even attempt to defend himself or explain, Ron had vanished around the corner into a lift.  


Perhaps if the guilt hadn't been gnawing at his insides he would have been angry at Ron for dismissing him in such a way. 

His steps were heavy as he made his way to the Auror department – he had offered to write reports this week instead of going to the field. Sure that his colleagues had to be suspicious, he didn't dare to took into anyone's face as he bade them good day. He even made sure to be protected by a wall of case files as he sat down at his desk, burying his head in his hands.  


Ron had been absolutely right – he had picked and chosen when he saw fit to support his friends. All because he didn't want to face his own inner demons, because burying his head in the sand was the easiest option. 

And now he feared that it was making him lose Ron. The frustrating thing was that he knew his relationship with Ron had to be worked at, had to be nurtured by both of them. It still hurt to think about the rift when they were fourteen and when Ron had left them during the hunt for the Horcruxes - even if the thought of how Ron had returned made him warm all over. 

Maybe now was the time to stop running away from it all and try to save what could be saved. He didn't have a saviour complex for nothing. 

++++ 

Being the professional she was, Hermione kept mum on how much she knew of what had transpired between Ron and Zacharias Smith. In fact she had snapped at Harry when he tried to ask her what had happened. 

But Harry did have a strong feeling he should try to find out as much as he could about what had happened if he was to be able to reach out to Ron. So the next step was to visit George, as he and Ron were now working together at the joke shop. 

The small flat George lived in above the joke shop was littered with products and stock boxes. Harry had to remove a box of Ton-Tongue Toffees to be able sit down while George went to what he called kitchen but was in fact a small cabinet with a cooling charm, a sink and the world smallest cooker. Bringing back two Butterbeers, he sat down in front of Harry on a box marked Punching Telescopes. 

After small talk about the general circumstances of the other Weasleys, what Lee Jordan was up to these days, and Quidditch, Harry started to sense that George was waiting for him to get to the point. If this had only been about catching up they would've just met up for a pint at the pub.  


"That thing Ron's charged with, beating up Zacharias Smith and all that. Do you know what happened?"  


George raised his eyebrows and put down the bottle he was about to take a sip from.  


"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Harry almost squirmed in his chair as he fought to find the right words to answer that question. 

"I tried, you know, but kind of blew it. I think he was pissed off that I came to the reading of his indictment." 

Something in George's look told Harry that he wasn't surprised. 

"I could tell you what Ron told me, but I think you should speak to him yourself. And even if it's not my place to interfere here, it's high time you spoke to him. I mean truly spoke, not just some idle chit-chat."  


Despite the fact that George was only two years older than him, Harry felt like a small boy being scolded. Mostly it was the guilt, not George's attitude, but it did bring it home. 

"Ron hasn't been complaining about you, if that's what you think, but I know my brother better than he realises. The last time I noticed him acting like this was years ago, during the Triwizard Tournament." 

Harry was completely miserable now, feeling like he'd ruined everything. He wanted to explain the whole affair to George; how much he loved Ron, but also how much he feared doing the wrong thing and driving him away, and how he appeared to have managed to do it now. The words wouldn't come. 

"Harry, you are okay with him being gay, right?" 

The part of him that was wedged into the back of his mental cupboard-under-the-stairs wanted to scream 'No' - that knowing Ron was gay had fanned a stupid little flame of hope in his heart - that the knowledge had made everything worse and that it was Ron's fault. But the guilt was Harry's, so he nodded his head, which made George crease his eyebrows. 

"That wasn't very convincing, Harry." 

"I'm okay with it," he whispered, putting great effort into stopping before he could add _but I'm not okay with me being gay_.  


George shrugged in defeat.  


+++ 

That night, after Harry was home and in bed, he wondered if he should fall on his knees by the bed and pray for the courage he needed to fix everything: to truly admit to himself how he really felt about Ron and to admit it to Ron and ask for his forgiveness for his erratic support. Harry had never prayed and decided he probably shouldn't start by asking for something so big – something that should be entirely his to deal with.  


So he lay on the bed, looking up at the ceiling while his traitorous mind wandered towards Ron. Not to how Harry should mend their relationship, but to Ron's narrow hips and long legs, broad shoulders, cut triceps and his strong hands. Somehow his mind focused on Ron's hands grasping a broom handle tightly, turning his knuckles white. 

Instinctively, Harry moved his own hand beneath the elastic band of his pyjama bottoms and Ron was no longer grasping a broom handle in his hand but Harry's cock. He imagined how it would feel to have Ron's broad thumb stroke the underside of his cock, spread the pre-come from the head and have his strong but gentle fingers roll down the foreskin. The thoughts made him almost instantly hard. In his mind he was looking into Ron's eyes, the blue irises only just visible around the dilated pupils, their breaths mingling and Ron was whispering: "Are you going to fuck me with your hard cock? Fuck my mouth? Ram it up my arse?" 

It took him only few strokes to come but it didn't quiet his mind. 

_Holy fuck, I want Ron, I love Ron, what am I going to do?_  


During the hours he spent sleepless that night, a plan of sorts slowly formed in his mind, a plan to uncover the truth. 

+++ 

There were a few more spectators on the benches during this hearing; a couple more reporters and some curious Ministry workers, who apparently had time to kill. None of the Weasleys were there - George had told Harry that Ron had asked them not to come and they'd all listened to him. Hermione was leafing through her documents with a familiar look of concentration on her face, which helped calm Harry's uneasiness over it all. 

Ron was sitting in the chair in the middle of the room, staring straight ahead at the prosecutor's podium. Harry had positioned himself so he could see Ron's profile; he wanted to look at his face while he gave his testimony.  


Soon the proceedings began and the prosecutor reminded Ron that he was obligated to tell the truth.  


"Please tell us with your own words, what happened at the Blazing Donkey on the night of the nineteenth of last October?" 

Ron hesitated a little before replying and Harry could see a slight anxiousness in Hermione's face.  


"I was just out for a pint. I had been there with my brother, George, but he'd left earlier because he was tired. So I sat there alone drinking my Butterbeer, wasn't going for anything stronger since I had to work the next morning.  


"Smith was sitting at the next table with a friend, a girl who I'd never seen before. Smith I knew from Hogwarts. They were drinking Gillywater and Firewhisky, I think. Not sure though. Smith was being loud, pointing at me several times but I tried not to notice. I'll admit that I don't particularly like Smith but that's just based on how he was at Hogwarts.  


"All of a sudden he starts to talk to me - or more like shouting at me. 'Hey, Weasley. Is it true what I hear, that you're a poofter? So do you like having your fudge packed or do you do the fudge packing?' 

"Naturally, I wasn't going to take this kind of abuse from him, the coward that he was, so I just stood up and punched him. He had it coming, the bastard."  


Harry could see the tension in Ron's jaw and how hard he was gripping the arms of his chair.  


The prosecutor jotted down some notes, before asking in an impassive voice: 

"So you didn't have any communication with Zacharias Smith before going up to him and assaulting him?" 

"As I said, he was the one who started shouting at me. I had been trying my best to ignore him." 

"Did the girl who was with Smith say anything?" 

"Not until I had decked him. Then she shouted something at me but I wasn't listening to her, the barkeep had just put a full Body-Bind Curse on me."  


"And you remained under that Curse until the Magical Law Enforcement arrived?"  


"Yes."  


The prosecutor kept jotting down notes and Harry saw that Hermione was doing the same.  


"At the moment, there's nothing from the Prosecution. Would the defender want to ask the accused?"  


"Yes, thank you." Hermione had risen and walked so she was standing between Ron and the podium. 

"Would you be so kind as to describe how well you know Zacharias Smith and what kind of rapport you have had with him?" 

"Smith was in the same year as I at Hogwarts, in Hufflepuff while I was in Gryffindor. I didn't really know who he was until our fifth year when he became the seeker for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, plus he joined an organization I belonged to, called Dumbledore's Army, which I'm sure everyone present are familiar with. 

"I can't say I ever liked him. I thought he was unreasonable and rude to my friend, Harry Potter, when Harry was leading Dumbledore's Army. During my sixth year he was the announcer at a Quidditch match and made rude comments about me being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Later I learned that he had scrambled to flee from the Battle of Hogwarts when almost everyone else from Dumbledore's Army stood and fought. 

"So I wasn't going to take him insulting my sexual orientation like that. But I don't think it was unprovoked." 

There were a few more questions from both Hermione and the prosecutor but none of them revealed anything new to Harry. He was focused on Ron and though he appeared to be collected, the clench of his jaw suggested that he was not calm.  


Then Smith was called in, Ron moved to the bench beside Hermione, and Smith took the chair.  


His story didn't match Ron's. Not that Harry had expected it to as the indictment had already suggested that the two versions of events were quite different. No, Smith had been innocently enjoying a night out with a lady friend when the big and brutish Weasley had walked up to him and punched his pretty face. Harry wanted to vomit. 

Ron was surprisingly calm during Smith's testimony, even when Smith smoothly denied ever having hurled insults at Ron, whereas Harry practically had to sit on his hands not to deck Smith himself. 

Then the girl who had been with Smith was called in. Harry didn't know her, but her story was the same as Smith, almost verbatim, which gave Harry the impression that Smith had made her practise it, _the bastard_.  


The barkeep was unable to cast any light on what had transpired between Ron and Smith before the punching – it was a waste of time to call him before the court.  


Then a regular patron of the Blazing Donkey was called forth – a wizened old wizard called Orpheus Jewkes. 

"Oh, yes, even if my whiskers are grey and I do like my cup of Odgen's Old, I still have a ready mind, young man," croaked the old man after the prosecutor had asked him describe what he'd seen on the night of the nineteenth of October. "Yes, I was there at the Blazing Donkey that night, like I am most nights. Like my whisky and like drinking it where I can see people, even though most of those I used to drink with are now six feet under. Now, I was sitting there, at the bar, and I noticed a young man sitting alone and thought he looked familiar. And I noticed it was the Weasley boy who was with young Potter. Wizarding world heroes, if you ask me. Then I saw another young man - he was there with some girl, they were drinking, too much if you ask me, and the young man was acting like a cock in a hen house, puffing his chest and making noise to impress that girl. 

"Then he took notice of young Weasley there and started pointing and gesturing, rather crude if you ask me, but young Weasley ignored him. That's when he started addressing him, well, addressing him would be a misnomer, he was downright insulting him. Calling him 'poofter' and other bad names, like it was any of his business at all. And still young Weasley didn't give him a day's notice. Not until that boy, Smith I think you said his name was, started implying something about young Weasley and Potter. I don't recall exactly what he said but it did imply that Weasley was pining for young Potter. Now, I would've given Smith a good smacker on the nose long before young Weasley had enough and stood up to punch the fellow. Yes, Smith had it coming if you ask me."  


Harry felt his heart race and his insides burn when he listened to the old man explain that it had been the implication of him and Ron that had driven Ron to beat Smith up. If the old man was telling the truth - and why shouldn't he, he had nothing to gain from bending the truth - then why was it only when Smith mentioned him, Harry, that Ron was spurred to action? He felt dizzy; maybe Ron was repulsed by the idea of being romantically connected to Harry, or he was just defending his reputation. But that stubborn flame in his heart wanted it to mean something else, that Ron didn't want Smith disrespecting something he wanted in his heart.  


These thoughts consumed him in such a way that he didn't become properly aware of his surroundings again until it was time for the Wizengamot to give their ruling. The old man had left and the prosecutor and Hermione had presumably given some sort of speeches and he'd missed it all. Ron had returned to the chair and was calmly awaiting his sentence. 

"In the case of the Wizarding Public against Ronald Bilius Weasley, does the Wizengamot, as assembled here, find the accused guilty as charged? Raise your hand if so," sounded the court scribe whom Harry hadn't noticed until then. The twenty-five wizards and witches, all clad in their plum robes, appeared to look sternly at Ron and Harry's stomach grew heavy with dread. Then the hands started rising and his heart dropped when more and more hands were raised. He started counting them - they seemed so many, but before he could finish the counting the voice of the court scribe sounded again.  


"Twelve hands of twenty-five. Ronald Bilius Weasley is acquitted of his charges as they were laid before the court. Any monetary claims that may have been made are dismissed. This case is closed and the Wizengamot is now officially adjourned."  


A strange feeling flooded Harry, unusual sort of relief. He saw Hermione rise, smiling, walking towards Ron and hugging him. He found himself rising from his seat as well and like he was floating on a cloud, his feet carried him towards them.  


"Still giving your moral support, Harry?" Ron asked in a strained tone but Harry didn't feel stung by his words. He only smiled which made Ron appear slightly taken aback. 

"Well, boys, I'm off," said Hermione, whom Harry hadn't really acknowledged being there. "Need to get back to my regular job. I bet there's a hefty pile on my desk by now." 

Neither of them bade her farewell as she walked out of the courtroom. 

"Ron, can we talk?" He wasn't going let this pass – he wanted to hear Ron either confirm or dismiss what old Jewkes had been saying and if it was true, then he wanted to know why exactly Ron had punched Smith for it.  


Ron nodded and they made their way out of the courtroom, passing a red-faced and humiliated Zacharias Smith who said something as they went by, but neither of them noticed. Automatically, they made their way up to the Atrium in silence.  


"Erm, my place is connected to the floo network here, we can go there," said Harry as they stood in the gleaming Atrium. Again Ron merely nodded.  


They made their way to the nearest fireplace and Harry went ahead. He had barely scrambled out of the fireplace at his flat when Ron appeared. 

"So?" Ron asked as he'd finished dusting the ash from his robes. 

"Is it true what he said?"  


"He who?"  


Harry stifled a groan, fearing that Ron was being obtuse on purpose. 

"The old man. What he said about you punching Smith only when he mentioned me?"  


"What if that's true?"  


"Why then? Why not punch the bastard when he called you a poofter?" 

Ron tilted his head like Harry was a piece of furniture he wanted to buy. 

"Does it matter?"  


"Ron, don't be silly. Of course it does." 

Straightening up, Ron crossed his arms defensively. 

"What, you hate the thought of someone implicating you as being gay, is that it?"  


Despite the hostility in Ron's demeanour, Harry could feel the flame of hope in his heart grow stronger.  


"Not at all," he whispered. Then he took a deep breath. "Quite the contrary."  


Ron almost leaped backwards, his hands falling down to support him against the wall behind him. Harry stepped towards him. 

"Does this mean what I think … no, what I hope this means?" Ron looked at him and Harry could swear he saw the same kind of hope in his eyes as he felt in his heart. 

"It does," said Harry and reached up to catch Ron's lips with his. 

It was a sweet and tender kiss that sent a jolt to his stomach and made his heart almost tingle with happiness. He grabbed Ron's shoulders as he deepened the kiss and felt Ron's strong, beautiful hands take hold of his hips. Moving one hand up to run it through Ron's red mop of hair, a fire of a sort ignited in his gut and the need to have Ron right now lit him up. His grip on Ron's head became more possessive and Ron responded by thrusting his hips forward, bumping Harry's hip. 

There was so much Harry wanted to say: tell Ron how much he loved him, how sorry he was for being such a backward, closet-hiding fool when Ron had come out to him, how blind he'd been - how he had erred. But there was no time for words - he only had time for the hot-blooded male he was currently flush up against, time for those strong hands to hold him, time for the best kisses Harry had ever received in his inexperienced life. 

Somehow Harry soon found himself disrobed and devoid of his shirt and Ron appeared to be in similar circumstances. Harry had the vague feeling that one of them had Banished the articles of clothing in question but it was impossible for him to figure that out through the haze of raging lust in his head.  


Looking at the trail of flaming red hair leading below the waist of Ron's trousers, there was only one thought that registered in Harry's mind. 

"Bed. Now."  


And Ron obeyed.  


Despite this being his first time, Harry knew exactly what he wanted. There weren't clearly formed ideas in his mind, rather instinctive signals that had him pinning Ron underneath him, trailing kisses down the column of his throat, holding his hands, exploring them with his fingertips, enjoying how the calloused, broad fingers felt. 

"Mine," he whispered between the kisses he was planting on Ron's throat, chest, stomach and the hip protruding from the waist band of the trousers. He wanted to devour Ron whole but as he buttoned down the fly and pushed Ron's trousers and boxers away he had to make do with Ron's long, hard cock. Harry went in with more fervour than skill and his attempt to deep-throat Ron right away, ended with him gagging and coughing.  


Feeling nervous, he looked up at Ron, who caressed his cheek to make him feel at ease.  


Going more slowly Harry took the head in his mouth, dipping his tongue in the slit, tasting the pre-come, taking more of the cock into his mouth and moving his head up and down. This probably wasn't the best blowjob ever given but Ron seemed to be enjoying himself, his breath heavy, punctuated by the occasional moan. It didn't take Harry long to figure out that Ron particularly enjoyed it when he ran his tongue down the underside of the cock - so much that he had started to fist the sheets. Knowing it was him, Harry, who was pushing Ron towards the edge, sated every fibre of his being with gleeful happiness. 

With a strangled moan, Ron arched up and filled Harry's mouth with his come, who then accidentally inhaled instead of swallowing and started to cough rather ungracefully.  


Not that it appeared to matter to Ron. As Harry had gained his breath back, Ron pulled him into his arms and kissed him, tasting what was left of his essence on Harry's lips and in his mouth. A shiver ran down Harry's spine when he did it, making him more aware of his own aching hardness.  


And it was like Ron had read his mind and raided his fantasies. 

"Wanna fuck me?"  


Harry felt the blood thrum in veins. He wanted nothing more, he wanted to spread Ron's legs open and fall between them. 

"Yes," he hissed and pull himself up so he hovered over Ron, looking at his flushed face, at the freckles spread down his chest, at his swollen lips from their kissing and marvelling at how wanton he looked and how much he wanted to have him, to keep him forever and ever. Any nervousness about penetrating a man for the first time hardly registered in his head – his instinct would guide him. And Ron. 

He bent back down to capture Ron's lips once more and Ron took his hand and guided it down, over his own flaccid cock and between his legs. Breaking the kiss, he whispered to Harry: 

"Open me."  


Carefully Harry moved back down Ron's body, putting the free hand on the back of Ron's left thigh and pushed it up. Helping, Ron grabbed the back of his knees and positioned himself so Harry was left in no doubt of what he wanted.  


These were scary, new, and unexplored vistas but Harry felt up for the challenge and stuck two fingers into his mouth to make them slick with spit before pushing them on Ron's anus, teasing it to relax before laying himself flat to stick his tongue there. 

And it struck him that things had changed swiftly - from him worrying about Ron not wanting to be associated with him to him having his tongue up Ron's arse. But it felt right despite the taste which he probably wouldn't have withstood if this was anyone but Ron. 

His own cock was now trapped between him and the mattress, aching more than ever, so despite Ron obviously enjoying what he'd been doing, Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to be inside Ron. 

Replacing his tongue with three fingers, he managed open Ron a little more before spitting on his palm to slick his cock and line it up against Ron's arse.  


Using his weight he felt how he sank into Ron, painfully slowly, into that incredible tightness which yielded to his hardness. It was hard to read on Ron's face whether he felt more pain than pleasure but he was pulling his legs apart even more to accommodate Harry better so he wanted this.  


And he was completely sheathed, almost resting his shoulders on the back of Ron's thighs. Wanting to be careful, he pulled slowly back and it took more effort, like he was leaving Ron. When he was almost out, he attempted to sink in faster and it felt even better to fill Ron now. 

Knowing he wouldn't last very long, he sought Ron's permission to move faster. At the third stroke, he managed to hook his arm around Ron's thigh, taking his half-hard cock in his hand, wanting to rub it in tandem with his thrusts.  


It didn't take them long to become erratic, though, as he felt the orgasm build inside him like a giant spring-coil being wound up, his veins thrumming and his whole body growing almost completely rigid before his last thrust where he emptied himself, feeling the climax washing over him, his vision blurring almost completely, with Ron's name on his lips before falling, almost boneless, as the orgasm subsided, onto Ron who cradled him in his arms.  


Maybe now was the time to tell him that he loved him, but something told him he didn't need to right now, there would be other opportunities. There were other things that needed to be said. 

"I feel like I made a huge error." He felt Ron tense up. "When I was a total idiot when you came out and you know …" 

"Didn't support me," Ron finished, relaxing again. 

"Yeah."  


"I think I can forgive you." There was a hint of mischief in Ron's voice.  


"Really?" Harry said as he flopped back in Ron's arms. 

"Yeah, if you practice your blowjob technique." 

"Trial and error, only much better?" 

"Something like that, yeah." 

-fin.


End file.
